


diverged at a road

by Omgitsnothing1



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-02 05:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21156371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omgitsnothing1/pseuds/Omgitsnothing1
Summary: Jisung has never been anything more than that one Korean kid in the middle of Wales. Now, at Hogwarts, he'll just be that one muggle-born in the middle of Slytherin.





	1. Eggs, Bacon, and an Owl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, listen, I know exactly what all their real Hogwarts houses are. I know that he said he's a Gryffindor. BUT! For plot reasons, some of their houses are going to be shuffled around.

Mr. and Mrs. Han, hailing from one of the sparse Korean communities in Wales, were unabashed to say that they were perfectly, overwhelmingly normal. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious because they just didn't appear to bother with such trifling matters. 

Mr. Han was a teacher at the local primary school exactly three blocks away from their two-story home, and a very good one at that. He wasn't extraordinarily tall, nor was he extraordinarily handsome—though he did own a cool pair of orange shades he refused to abscond even on rainy days. Mrs. Han was similarly built in all her thinness, shortness, and average countenance which matched with her very ordinary job as a baker at the very ordinary business of "Han's Confectionaries." Together, the Han's raised two sons, Jiwoon and Jisung, and in their opinion, there were no finer, more regular boys out there. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Han woke up as they would usually wake up any other weekday morning—singing at the top of their lungs—there was nothing particularly peculiar about the day to suggest that anything strange or mysterious would occur. Mr. Han hummed as he knocked rhythmically on the shared bedroom of his sleeping sons, and Mrs. Han hummed as she cracked an egg over a sizzling pan. 

As the family gathered around the dining table, none of them noticed as a rugged rust-brown owl pecked at their window except the tiniest of the bunch. 

Jisung, with his bed-head and puffy cheeks, rubbed at his tired eyes and pointed at the creature. "Mummy, there's an owl at the window."

Mrs. Han chewed on her bacon obliviously. "Is there? Honey, can you hand me—ah yes, thank you."

The bird pecked more frequently.

"Mummy it's getting angry," he repeated with more urgency, but not too much. This sunny morning was much too mellow to ruin with yelling voices. 

Mr. Han raised his head at that, peeking over his newspaper. "Oh," said Mr. Han jubilantly. "Honey, there's an owl at the window."

"Daddy, look, it has a letter in its beak," Jiwoon noted. Eggs were stuffed into his cheeks, willing itself to burst. His mother scolded him for being rude. 

Sure enough, when Mr. Han observed the animal jabbing holes into their window, there was a mud-brown envelope trapped between its mouth. This was not a common occurrence in the Han household. Most of their mail was delivered to their post box to be picked up after breakfast, but there was always the chance they may have forgotten their subscription to an owlery. The situation begs to recall one summer where the family had joined a religious cult on accident under the impression it was a country club. They had been offered multiple pamphlets and a couple of visits by the so-called "priest" over the course of the next few weeks as a result. 

The bird pecked again, seemingly adamant about the delivery of its parcel. 

"Well, someone ought to get the mail," said Mr. Han. "Jiwoon?"

"Make Sungie get it."

"Sungie?"

"I don't want to!"

Mr. Han pushed his chair out and went to get the mail. The owl cooed with a harsh trill as if questioning why it took so long to reach it and with a snubbed hoot dropped the envelope into Mr. Han's waiting hands. It took no time fluttering off. Mr. Han stared—a letter for Jisung. He twisted it around to see the name of the sender and found nothing excluding the golden wax stamp enclosing the letter. Why would an owl have a message for his son? Had his youngest found himself a pen pal in a child from the seventeenth century? How exciting! He had not known that was where Jisung's heart dabbled. Whatever the case was, it was heavy and fancy and for his son. 

Mr. Han returned to the table where his family sat expectantly. "Your pen pal wrote back to you!" he said, tossing over the letter without preamble. Now, back to the paper. 

Jisung chirped, "Dad."

"Yes?"

"I don't have a pen pal."

"Who'd be writing to you then?" Mrs. Han asked. 

"Can I read the letter?" Jiwoon asked. His fingers were already wiggling toward the envelope. 

"I'll read the letter," said Jisung, sticking his tongue out. Jiwoon returned the gesture. He cleared his throat and spoke in a dramatic voice befitting the font:

* * *

Dear, Mr. Han

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

* * *

Mr. Han saw as his son's face pinched in confusion the more he read the letter. The furrow of his brow indicated how a series of questions were rapidly popping up in Jisung's head. His other son prodded at the other papers that fell out of the envelope with a scrutinizing glare.

"I wonder what that all means," Mrs. Han mused.

"Well," said Mr. Han, after a moment. "it means that our son is a wizard."

"How wonderful!"

With that settled, the Han family continued their breakfast. What a wonderfully peculiar day.

.

.

.

Jisung's round eyes widened further with a sudden clarity. "Excuse me, I'm a what?"

"A wizard, darling, please keep up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although the beginning is very similar, it will bear little resemblance to the Harry Potter plot after that (OvO)
> 
> Here's my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/omg_itsnothing)!


	2. Bits, Bobs, and School Supplies

Jisung awoke the next morning in a disoriented state. The week following the appearance of the owl had been hectic, to say the least. His father had written, edited, and sent several letters in, of the first questioning the location of this Hogwarts, the payment involving the boarding school, and the physical presence of a wizard to provide evidence of the reality of magic. So far, in spite of their anxious pacing, no responses had arrived at the Han's postbox. Not even a ruffled feather. After a week, the family simply brushed off the strange occurrence as a mistake in addresses. 

"As if I'm a wizard," he whispered wistfully. His hands covered his eyes, a weak shield from the annoying sunlight. 

An unusually thunderous set of knocking interrupted his bout of disappointment. "Jisung!" Tap. Tap. Tap. "Jisung!" Tap. Tap. Tap. "Jisung!"

"Dad, be quiet!" shouted Jisung as he pushed himself off the bed. First, the sunlight dare disturbs his beauty sleep and now he's the only one being summoned? Grumpy, he gathered up his pillow and lobbed it at his brother's head who was sleeping soundly in the bed across from him. He received little but a small grumble in response. 

"Jisung!" Mr. Han called again. 

He whined as he opened the door. "What!"

"One of the professors from Hogwarts has appeared to help you prepare for the school years," said Mr. Han. His eyes were sparkling, his voice laced with child-like excitement. "Come look. She's turning teapots into flowers."

Jisung gasped. Teacups? Flowers? Real magic? His feet had never felt lighter as he bounded down the steps like a fairy taking flight. He could faintly hear his father's footsteps trailing after him over the beat of his heart. Once he reached the bottom, he gasped again. 

"How wonderful!" Mrs. Han clapped as though commenting on an animal performing a funny little trick. "This is quite amazing, Professor!"

In their kitchen, all the silverware—the knives bought on sale from a bazaar, the forks with chips on the tines, the half-washed spoons—levitated before him, twirling in the air and practicing backflips. The tea, which has surely been Earl Grey as they own no other, was nearly indistinguishable with its color changing from a coppery brown to an ostentatious pink to a bubbling blue. Even the wacky robot doodle on his water bottle waved hello and squeaked, virtually brought to life. It looked like a scene ripped straight off a Disney film. 

In the midst of the glorious chaos stood a tall, dark-skinned woman wrapped in a shockingly yellow robe adorning a face of complete, utter calmness. An immense velvet orange cap almost swallowed her tiny head, but even Jisung could note the amused glimmer in her gaze as she regarded Mrs. Han's spirited compliments. Held tight in her hand was a crooked stick. 

"Hello!" he said, and the floating items and singing objects returned to their original state at once. He looked on solemnly as his robot paused in his motions. 

"Professor," said Mr. Han, "This is my boy, Jisung."

"Hello," Jisung greeted again, quieter. 

"Is he the one who will be attending? I was aware you had two sons," asked the woman.

"Yes, he is. My other son is upstairs sleeping. He is tired from yesterday because of his choir practice. Taxing activity, isn't it?"

The woman frowned. "Is it?"

Mrs. Han nodded. "Yes. Requires a lot of standing."

"We have a choir in Hogwarts as well. It's called the Frog Choir and they're led by one of our other staff members. They can sing in Latin fluently and are exceptionally talented," she tacked on with what Jisung assumed was pride, but he couldn't tell as her face didn't twitch. 

Jisung scoffed. "How good can they be? They're called the _Frog Choir_. Why not the Canary Choir? Or the Dolphin Choir? Who'd want to be a frog?" He shrunk as her gaze focused on him. "Ma'am."

"Don't be rude to your teacher!" scolded Mrs. Han. 

The woman's lips fastened into a line. It was hard to tell whether she was pleased or displeased. "You make quite an impression," she said neutrally. 

He fiddled with the edge of his penguin pajama sleeves. Why had he chosen today to wear this embarrassing onesie? "Sorry, I wasn't nice. I'm sure your choir is lovely."

"Jisung, was it?"

"Yes, miss—er, ma'am."

The woman smiled, and it was a slight sort of grin like she didn't do it often but remembered to do it now. "You'll find early on that being memorable is far more rewarding than being nice, at least in my regard." She tilted her head at him. "Now, it is under my impression that you never knew you had magic."

"Not at all."

"Well, did you know that there's a whole world filled with it? Magic is brimming from every corner of England, and luckily enough, it appears to have even reached you. There's a catch though: magic, while a wonderful gift, can be dangerous when left untaught. This is why you will be attending one of the best schools in the world—Hogwarts, where all these nonsensical aspects become sensical. Tell me, Jisung, have you ever done something or seen something that you weren't quite able to explain?"

The whole spiel felt rehearsed, if he were to be honest, as though the woman had recited it thousands of times to thousands of children, and perhaps she had. Still, she observed him curiously with a hint of expectation. 

His heart sank when he knew he couldn’t reach it. He couldn’t even tell a division sign from a root most of the time, so how would he be able to identify magic in the mossy valleys of Wales. To him, birds flying out of a magician’s hats were just that—birds. Attempts at replication were met with regular old sleight of hand, not tricks of supernatural origin. He was a Han, an average boy from an ordinary family who’d never even considered the possibility of another world only spoken of in comics. He looked at his parents with a frown who only smiled at him encouragingly. How could he be a wizard? How could they accept that fact without a hindrance?

“No,” he replied honestly, “I’ve never been anything more than Han Jisung.”

Her slight grin widened to reveal pearly white teeth. "Now you can be," the woman said without falter. She held out her hand stiffly, facial features smoothing in the cool tranquility it had originally been. "You may call me Professor Sinistra, and I will help you get ready for your classes, if your parents permit it, that is."

Jisung grasped her hand, trying to quell the tremble in his fingers. "I'd love that!"

"I ought to talk to your parents, then." She turned her back to him and began to consult Mr. and Mrs. Han who looked upon the exchange with contemplative expressions. She sat down at the table. "You must have many questions."

A clamor resounded from behind them. Jiwoon, yawning loudly, waddled into the kitchen. "What'd I miss?" 

.

.

.

Jisung followed Professor Sinistra out into the streets. The summer air was humid and stuck to his clothes, but he trailed after her without complaint despite dying to whine about his predicament. His parents were unable to accompany them due to the demanding labors of work. "The world doesn't stop just because you found out you're a wizard!" they said, and without preamble, he was left in the tender hands of the strange older woman. It was a wonder in and of itself that he and his brother never got kidnapped. 

They stopped in front of a bus station.

"Excuse me, Professor," said Jisung. "Where are we going?"

"Cardiff."

"Why?"

"For your supplies, of course."

Jisung can count the times he's been to Cardiff on one hand. His brother had a few performances in the city, none of the even scraping the minimum requirement of decency in his opinion, and in none of those visits did Jisung imagine that it was the home of a magical market. Then again, in such a bustling urban environment, he should've figured there'd be a thriving wizard community. His imagination ran with images of shady shop worked with pointed ears and glowing pupils exchanging enigmatic objects under the counter away from prying eyes. 

The bus arrived and they stepped inside. Professor Sinistra stuck two bills through the slot for bus money and the duo settled down near the back. The woman's hat and general attire garnered a lot of inquisitive stares.

"I didn't know wizards used the same money as we do," whispered Jisung.

Professor Sinistra didn't honor him a glance. Her steely gaze seemed more preoccupied with sitting as close to herself as possible. She scrutinized the bus with a pinched look as if finding everything around her unworthy of her presence and a waste of her time. "We don't, but I have enough of a brain to know that you can't exactly pay with chunks of gold."

His mouth fell open. "Gold!"

She dug out a small velvet coin purse—equally as orange as she—and stuck her hand inside. She came up with a few coins of bronze, silver, and gold. "The smallest ones are called knuts, the silver—sickles, and the gold—galleons."

"How much are they worth?"

"29 Knuts to a sickle and 17 sickles to a galleon. One knut is about £50, I believe.”

Jisung frowned, trying and failing to go over the math in his head. “Why are the knuts worth so little and galleons so much? That doesn’t make much sense to me at all!”

“Most things won’t, but I find that there is much more sense in nonsense as long as you don’t think too hard,” Professor Sinistra advised. “Speaking of, do you remember what we’re buying?”

Of course, he did. Jisung had read his parchment over several times, burning into his head all the items he could possibly need for the school year, and almost all of them made no sense: Dragonhide gloves? Books on dark forces? He can't even fathom what on Earth a crystal phial could be, not to mention what it would be used for. He didn't know exactly how much money it all costed, but now armed with the knowledge that wizards had no concept of proper money, he refused to waste a single knut. 

They ran over a few of the items, and the conversation eventually faded. Jisung spent the rest of the journey content with marveling at the scenery the bus passed. Finally, they reached their destination. 

Cardiff was as crowded as Jisung remembered he hated. Bundles of people brushed against his knobby shoulders as he tried to keep up with his taciturn guide who glided through the sea of city-goers like a piece of paper floating in the wind. They took a sharp right into a secluded alley, and Jisung started to get nervous. Grubby-looking pubs and shady stores lined both sides of the alley. The glimpse of sun residing above them did not help make the eerie atmosphere anymore pleasant than Jisung thought it ought to. He slowed his steps in case it all turned out to be a large ploy to steal him from his family. 

Professor Sinistra stopped in front of a tenebrous bookstore. The curtains were closed shut and the sign was clearly flipped to ward away customers. "Follow me."

He most definitely didn't want to, but he also had no desire to be turned into a rat, so he obeyed. 

Surprisingly, although outside appeared to be bitter and unspoken for, the interior was painted in dazzling shades of purple and pink. The bookshelves weren't dusty and the books inside seemed to glitter as brightly as the sparkling wooden floor. A few individuals were present, wearing their large hats and puffy robes, but none paid any notice to their arrival.

Only one dared to call out to Professor Sinistra who was making her way to the back. "Aurora! Another muggle-born student? They seem to be multiplying every year!"

She ignored him, bending to inspect a row of pots. With a sniff, she whipped out her wand and tapped the pots in what Jisung could only assume was in order. The pots quivered in place and the wall behind the pots collapsed backward to form a large archway. Once they entered, Jisung turned around and was amazed to find the archway had disappeared. 

"This is Diagon Alley. Do not stray from my side or you might find yourself lost where you don't want to," she instructed him from either keenly observing Jisung's marveling or too used to it to know what to warn. He guessed the latter.

"Who even gets lost where they want to. Defeats the whole purpose of being lost," Jisung grumbled, but nevertheless, he found himself seeing the appeal.

Although he tried to heed her advice, he couldn't help himself. In every corner of the cobblestoned streets, a fascinating event took place. Children ate candy that made them float off the ground and women bartered with shopkeepers over the prices of cauldrons. Broomsticks sleek and metal and unlike the ones they owned at stores were displayed as the main attraction in gleaming windows. Lizard tails in small jars, blinking eyes that winked, leaping pictures of unfamiliar figures decorated the shelves of every store he looked at. 

A pair of boys his age were bent over a silver cage in a shop whose sign spelled out _Magical Menagerie._ One boy was shaking his head at his friend saying, "No, Binnie, for the last time—if you even attempt to smuggle a dragon into the school, you will die!"

"The teachers will kill me?"

"No! The dragon will _eat_ you!"

Jisung didn't even realize he was inside one of the shops until Professor Sinistra spoke again. "I've already bought most of your school items and had them delivered to your house later this evening, but there are some personalized belongings that I can't buy for you like your clothes and wands or if you'd like to purchase a pet. Do not worry about the cost as this is all coming out of the Hogwarts fund, as well as some money your parents offered that I exchanged at Gringott's—a wizard bank, that is."

The smell of the shop was flowery like laundry detergent and Jisung was suddenly aware of all the fabrics and spool and robes that hung around the shop. Nothing looked to be stiff and everything appeared to be flowy, spilling into each other like water. From behind a purple door, a squat, smiling witch as purple as the door she walked out of approached them.

"Another one for Hogwarts?" she said kindly. "You're the fifth one this afternoon—the last one just left."

"Err—yes," he responded with utmost elegance. 

Professor Sinistra was fiddling with her coin purse before she placed a couple of galleons in Jisung's hand and said, "I'll be going to Gringott's to exchange some money. I found some lost bills in my purse that I forgot your mother gave me. Pay Madam Malkin with these and wait until I return, so we can buy your wand afterward. 

He nodded and felt a sense of overwhelming loneliness and fear wash over him once she left. She was the only one shepherding his passage in the magical world and now she was gone, leaving him to his own devices. He was awfully nervous. 

Madam Malkin hummed and stood Jisung on a stool, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length. He was about to die of boredom when two chattering boys entered. He blinked. He recognized them as the squabbling pair outside of _Magical Menagerie._

"Do you think they have robe shops in Hogwarts if you ruin your robes?" the taller one asked.

"I"m certain they have spells for that," the other replied. "For now, we just need the one."

A second and third witch arrived to tend to the newcomers, but the shorter boy waved one of them off, saying how only his friend needed the fitting. 

"Hello!" chirped Jisung as they stood beside him.

The smaller one, Binnie, startled before turning toward him. "Oh! Hello there! Hogwarts as well?"

"Yes," he said, "I'm Jisung, and I'm going to start this term."

Binnie smiled with a force of a thousand suns. "I'm Changbin. My friend over here is Seungmin." he smacked his friend in the chest who swatted back at him, annoyed. "We're going to be first years too! Though Minnie over here is a little confused, being a muggle and all that. Good thing he has me as his fantastic guide."

Muggle. He had heard that word yelled out at Professor Sinistra in the bookstore and he still didn't know what it meant, too dazed by the pretty lights to ask. "What's a muggle?"

"You must be a muggle if you don't know what a muggle is. It's a person from a non-magical family like my mate, Seungmin, here. You can't believe the surprise when we were hanging out by the pool and all of a sudden his hair's pink! Took my mum three tries before she got it back to its original color before his parents came to pick him up." The boy chattered on and on like no tomorrow. Seungmin nodded along quietly. "I'm half n' half. Dad's a muggle. Mum's a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for both me and my dad when we found out."

Jisung's mind went dizzy with the influx of information, but he caught onto one thing. "Seungmin's a muggle—like me?"

Changbin nodded. "Yes, perfectly ordinary. Mum already bought all my supplies yesterday, so I'm here with Minnie to get him sorted out. He can be a bit nitpicky on the details, so I came here to help him out. Good that too, he already tried to adopt seventeen animals on the way here. Took a whole hour debating over the quality of cauldrons."

Seungmin rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, as though you weren't the one crying because they were locked in cages."

Changbin ignored him. "He needs all the help he can get."

"That's nice," said Jisung earnestly. He wished he had a friend that could hold his hand through this daunting experience. 

"Also, you should stop acting like you know all the in's and out's of the wizarding world," scolded Seungmin, pinching his friend on the arm. "You didn't know anything either until your mum told you. Acting all high and mighty because you came here a day before."

"A day in some places is a year in others," said Changbin wistfully.

"Shut up, you knob."

Jisung giggled and the two boys seemed to glow brighter at the sound. A small conversation over their expectations began, and Jisung was quite pleased with this new development despite Madam Malkin yapping at his slightest movement. 

Finally, she finished with his robes. "That's you done, my dear," she said, and he paid her for her service, depositing the change into his pants pocket.

The door creaked open and Professor Sinistra entered. Her coin purse dangled in her hand and was plumper. "Are you finished with your fitting, Jisung?"

"Yep," he replied, slightly sour at having to leave so soon.

"Who's that?" asked Changbin.

"A professor for Hogwarts."

"What subject?'

"Not sure." She looked like a math-y sort of person.

Seungmin smiled. "It was nice meeting you, Jisung. I hope we see each other often at Hogwarts. I'd love to be with another muggle-born student."

“It was nice to meet you guys too,” said Jisung genuinely before walking toward the waiting woman. A hollowness emptied in his chest, but there was also a pinch of hope there.

.

.

.

They slithered through the buzzing street, twisting and turning their bodies to avoid the occasional rowdy pedestrian until they reached a narrow and shabby brick shop nestled between two short and stout wooden ones. The windows climbed up two stories where Jisung gleamed tall shelves filled to the brim with rectangular boxes, illuminated by a pale orange light.

"This is Ollivander's, where you shall get your wand," Professor Sinistra said, walking inside.

Unlike the rather barren state of Madam Malkin's, a throng of children poked around at the stacks of boxes, opening them up and discarding them just as quickly, loosely accompanied by their taller, funnily dressed parents who were consulting the shop assistants about wand quality. 

"Woah."

Professor Sinistra frowned. "It's usually never this busy, but we did walk in on a Saturday."

"Good afternoon," said a young man. He was thin and sickly-looking—a teenager, obviously. "Do you need help?"

"Yes, we need to see Mr. Ollivander for this child's wand."

"He's a little busy, so you'll need to wait."

It was a wonder how the witch's face never seemed to show any radical emotions. At the most, she responded with a stiff nod and a curt, "Thank you." She addressed Jisung. "Let's get in line."

The line was short but long enough for them to be standing for a substantial amount of time. Like he always did, Jisung people-watched. It was a habit he adopted from his great aunt who always had something to say about everybody, information she gathered from staying silent and listening in. Mrs. Han warned him not to be nosy like her, but Jisung can't help if it eases off the boredom. 

Another set of boys stood in front of him and Professor Sinistra, arguing passionately. Unlike the playful banter of Seungmin and Changbin, these boys bickered with the terrible familiarity of rarely meeting family members. 

"If it wasn't for your mummy, Innie, I'd have left you as a snack for the cannibalistic wizards in Knockturn Alley!"

"You lie! There's no such thing! I've never heard of them!"

"Because all their victims were eaten."

"Felix, stop teasing your little cousin," their adult chaperone chastised. "It's time to get your wands."

"I'm only younger by a few months!"

Jisung zoned out and soon the bickering family left the shop.

"It's your turn," Professor Sinistra said, and Jisung bowed his head before meeting an old man who looked at him with wide, pale eyes. "This is Mr. Ollivander. Say hello."

"Hello," he said awkwardly.

Mr. Ollivander was uncomfortably close, mumbling to himself and shaking his head. He paused. "Give me your dominant arm."

Jisung held his right arm out and a measuring tape measured his body from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

The man nodded. "Easy enough. I've got just the wand for you." He held a wand out. "Try this."

Jisung grasped the wand in his hand and gasped. A whirlwind shook around him and a rush of adrenaline traveled up his arms. A light sparked from the tip of the wand, and finally, for once in this entire trip, this entire week, he didn’t feel out of place in this extraordinary world; He felt  _ magical _ . 

Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand from his hand and wrapped it in brown paper. The warmth left and he immediately missed it. "Ah, yes, acacia wood with dragon heartstring and solid flexibility." He wiggled a finger at Jisung. "Be careful with this one. This is a tricky wand—it'll be true to you, loyal, but only the most gifted wizards can reveal the full potential inside it. If you fail to prove yourself, it may not listen to you when the time comes."

In an instant, the good mood Jisung languished in vanished. He's a muggle who has no idea how to even begin navigating the wizarding world. How could he possibly compete with wizards who have been living and breathing magic since they were born? Surely there are fantastic muggle-born wizards. Surely Jisung can survive here.

Mr. Ollivander must've noticed a change in his face for as he handed Jisung his wand, he added, "The wand chooses the wizard, and this little worker chose you. Don't let it be disappointed."

Feeling more burdened than encouraged, Jisung tucked the wand in his elbow and walked away.

.

.

.

On the bus ride home, Jisung asked Professor Sinistra, “So, when you said you got all my non-personal supplies, what did that include exactly?”

“Your cauldron, your books,” she listed a few more items, “your ink, quill, and parchment.”

He stilled. “Quill and parchment? How much do they cost?”

“One galleon per quill, and five knuts per foot of parchment.”

“Must you use a quill and parchment?” he questioned. 

“What do you mean?”

“If I were to use a writing utensil that wasn’t a quill to do my homework, will I get in trouble?”

Professor Sinistra paused. “Well, as long as it’s legible, I don’t see why not. There are no strict rules against it.”

“And what if we were to use something that wasn’t parchment?”

“Like what?”

“It’s still paper, just not a long one. As long as I did all of my homework, does it matter what I wrote it on?”

“I don’t see why not. I once had a student that turned in their final project carved in pure marble, and they got full credit.”

“I see.” Jisung stared out the window, contemplating all the pens and lined paper he’ll have to invest in for school. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really happens, just another introductory chapter. I wanted to make it so that even people who aren't that familiar with Harry Potter can get into it.
> 
> Jisung meets Hyunjin next chapter :)
> 
> Here's my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/omg_itsnothing)!


	3. Friends, Foes, and Fudge Flies

Platform 9 ¾ was a wild affair. Animals of various shapes, sizes, and colors balanced atop the carts and luggage of magical families. Although the letter only allowed the presence of owls, cats, and toads as pets—and there were plenty of toads to Mrs. Han’s dismay—Jisung also spotted a plethora of banned species like ferrets and rats and pigeons. To his own disappointment, despite all these illegally smuggled pets roaming the station, not a single one was a squirrel. 

A large whistle piped from the train and a flush of children boarded. The train did not depart until eleven o’clock but students were too eager to attend or return to Hogwarts. Unfortunately, Jisung belonged to neither category and he tried to prolong his farewell for as long as possible. He had passed by a round-faced boy earlier who said, “I don’t think there’s any electricity at Hogwarts,” and it made Jisung sourer than before.

“How is it that no one has ever accidentally fallen into this place?” commented Jiwoon, peering at the crowded area critically. “I mean, it’s just a fake wall. I can’t imagine that there wasn’t some sorry drunkard who slammed into it headfirst and jeopardized the whole wizarding race.”

“Now, Jisung. Let’s review your items,” said Mr. Han, ignoring his eldest son’s interrogative chatter. “Do you have the suitcase with all your books?”

Jisung nodded, jiggling his suitcase. It was plain and bought from the neighborhood mall 50% off. It made him feel smaller than he already did. “Yes.”

“Your—er—cauldron?”

“Yes.”

“And what of your wand?”

“Right here.” He patted his pocket.

“And another thing,” Jiwoon interjected, finger out pointedly. “‘The wand chooses the wizard,’ is what you said. But what if you break your wand? Can you just never do magic properly again? It’s a flimsy thing, that wand, and it’s quite damning to only have one wand forever.”

“Good thing my wand is super flexible then,” said Jisung absent-mindedly. He flipped the wand in his hand and caressed the tiny ridges that marred the sides. His lip curled. “Dad, what if I don’t fit in? Everyone’s going to be from a wizard family and I’ll end up being that one human— _ muggle _ not knowing what’s going on.”

“There are plenty of regular folks like us going to Hogwarts. Didn’t you say you met one of your fellow mambos—“

“—_muggles_—“

“—at Diagon Alley. Seungmin, was it? At least you know him!”

That didn’t reassure Jisung in the slightest. Changbin and Seungmin were friendly, but that’s the problem. In the amount of time that Jisung has been away, those two probably made a hundred new friends a hundred times better than he. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if they had forgotten him.

A striking bell whistle interrupted their conversation and the loud prattling of the station grew louder. 

“Seriously? No one wants to point out the inherent flaws of this entire enterprise?” Jiwoon asked.

Mrs. Han swatted Jiwoon’s arm. “Oh, hush. Say your goodbyes to your brother and then we can go out for ice cream.”

Jisung gripped onto his cart until his knuckles turned white. His face paled. “Do I have to attend? Can’t I stay at home? I’m not a wizard, mum, please. It might be a mistake. I’ve never even seen magic before the letter arrived.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Han stated firmly. “You’ve always been a special boy. From the moment I held you in my arms when you were a baby, I felt the magic in your laughter and the sparkle in your smile. Of course, that’s not to say I didn’t feel it with your brother as well, but with you, there was a unique quality that I failed to pin down. This is the reason. I promise you, you are right where you’re supposed to be. Hogwarts is another adventure waiting to be explored by a child as brilliant as you.”

“Mum!” Jisung whined.

“Go on.” She hugged him tightly to her chest and then pushed him forward. “Be sure to write often, darling.”

.

.

.

Jisung stood on the tips of his toes, trying and failing to tuck the last bit of his suitcase into the luggage rack. He was lucky enough to snag an empty room before the train filled up yet unlucky enough to get stuck with one too large for his stature. “Almost—there—“

“Need a hand?”

Jisung jumped, his hand darting to his chest. The suitcase wobbled and tottered dangerously on the edge. He closed his eyes tight, but the painful smack of cheap leather on skin never came. Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw a hand holding it up for him. It pushed the suitcase fully inside the compartment. 

He turned around to thank his savior but blushed instead. A handsome boy towered over him with a slight smile. All of his features were sharp—sharp face, sharp nose, and sharp, shining eyes that made Jisung’s tummy rumble with a sensation that was most definitely not hunger. His robes were impeccably sleek and neat, enhancing the prince-like air the stranger radiated.

“Uh,” said Jisung intelligibly. The boy was an inch taller than him, but it felt like a lot more.

The boy’s smile dimmed. “Sorry. You probably didn’t want my help.”

“Uh.”

The other stood there tense. After a moment, he nodded, body poised for a retreat. “Sorry for intruding.”

Jisung’s body moved forward on its own to trap his sleeve. “Why are you sorry? You helped me. If anything, I should be thanking you.” He released his robes. “Thank you.”

The boy paused. He didn’t appear to notice how harshly Jisung grabbed him earlier. “For what?”

“For putting up my suitcase, of course. You’re quite strange, aren’t you?”

“I’m the one who’s strange?” The boy scoffed. He looked Jisung up and down contemplatively. “You don’t have the faintest idea who I am, do you?”

“Maybe I would if you told me.” Jisung held out his hand. “Han Jisung.”

The boy stared for a moment. Then he grinned, gripping the appendage heartily. “Name’s Hwang Hyunjin.”

The train whistled for the last time, signaling that the doors were closing and the train was set for Hogwarts.

“Anyone else sitting here?” asked Hyunjin. His pretty eyes darted around the open hallway where rooms were closing one by one. 

Jisung shook his head and the other sat down. For some reason, Hyunjin appeared more relaxed with the knowledge that they were alone. He gazed upon Jisung with a fascination and he wondered what he did to earn such a marvel.

“Are you going to stand there forever?” 

Jisung scrambled to his seat, ears red as the other boy laughed. “It’s not nice to make fun of people’s misfortunes.”

“It’s not, but that doesn’t stop it from being funny,” said Hyunjin after his laughter died down. “Are you from a muggle family? You look muggle enough.”

“What’s a muggle look like?”

Hyunjin smirked. He had taken out a type of chocolate candy from his pocket and had stuffed it in his cheek, making his smile lopsided. The wrapper read: FUDGE FLIES. “You know, dazed and confused. Like you.”

“No, I don’t!” 

“Well, not too much, but even a half-blind person can see how you stare at everything in this train as though it’ll talk to you. If a person was muggle-raised all their life, they don’t understand what’s considered normal and abnormal here, and it shows.”

“Oh, really,” said Jisung with a pout. “And what kind of family do you come from?”

“Pureblood,” said Hyunjin quietly. “Magic through and through.”

“That sounds amazing. You’ve known magic your whole life. I wish I had a magical childhood. Everything would make a lot more sense than it does now.”

“Do you want some candy?” asked Hyunjin quickly. “I have a lot that I don’t want.”

“What kind?”

“I got some Pumpkin Pasties, Licorice wands…” Hyunjin dug into his pocket, emptying out an array of sweets onto the seat. “Jelly Slugs, Acid Pops—“

“Excuse me, what are Acid Pops?”

The other tossed one his way. “Like a lollipop except it can burn a hole in your mouth.”

“That does not sound good at all.”

Hyunjin laughed again, a burst of laughter stemming from the core of his belly, and the conversation bloomed from there. For the duration of the ride, they discussed the differences in candies, media, and books of both muggle and wizard origin. Hyunjin regaled a museum visit where all the relics came to life to tell their story. Jisung thinks he’d like to see a film about that one day. This then launched into a whole separate debacle over the distinction of muggle myths and wizard accidents.

And the ride continued on with two boys in a room, chocolate in their hands, and a whole lot to say.

.

.

.

Jisung tried to stifle his snorts as Hyunjin went wild with his gesticulations as he regaled his escape plan if Hogwarts ever got ransacked by an army of rabid werewolves. Sadly, the bell whistle screeched again, and the train slowed to a halt as did their conversation.

Before they both exited, Hyunjin turned to address him. “Perhaps it’s best if you don’t walk out with me.”

Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed. “Do you not want to be seen with me?”

Hyunjin looked like he had more to say, but he decided against it. His face grew cold. “Exactly. You’re embarrassing. How could someone like me possibly be caught talking to someone like you? An idiot that doesn’t know a thing about magic.” 

“What?”

“I’m warning you: don’t go near me.”

“We were perfectly fine before this!”

“And now we're in public,” said Hyunjin meanly. “I don’t want you to ruin my reputation. It’s high time you understood your place, Mudblood.”

Jisung gaped, and in his stupor, Hyunjin left. He stood, frozen, ears growing redder and redder. How dare that boy! Talking to him as though he was superior! He ought to—He ought to—a familiar emptiness hung in his chest. Honestly, deep down, he didn’t blame Hyunjin for fleeing as he had from boring, average Jisung. No, not at all. 

His heart got stuck in his throat, and he willed himself not to cry as he followed the rest of the students out on to a tiny, dark platform.

“Jisung? Is that you?” a familiar voice called out.

Wiping away at his moist eyes hurriedly, Jisung greeted the speaker. It was Seungmin, accompanied by Changbin and two others. “Hello,” he said, nose stuffy.

Changbin wrapped Jisung up in a hug. His warm embrace quelled some of the sullenness inside him. “We were wondering where you were!” Changbin leaned back. “Why do you look so sad?”

Jisung wiped at his face again. “Nothing. I just met a really mean boy.”

“Who?” said Changbin with a fierce glare that would have been intimidating if he wasn’t wearing a badly knit pink scarf. 

“No one. I’m fine.”

Seungmin walked closer and rubbed his back. “I’m sure you won’t see him again. How about you meet our new friends?” He stepped aside and the two strangers who were looking on at the interaction curiously approached him.

A cute boy with round features said, “I’m Lee Felix. I’m from an all-magical family.” He gestured to the boy beside him. “This is my cousin—“

“I can introduce myself,” said the other with a pinched face. 

“I’m just being polite.”

“By treating me like a baby!”

“Then, go on! Introduce yourself then!”

He faced Jisung. “I’m Yang Jeongin. Pleased to meet you!”

Despite his show of temper, Jeongin had an incredibly cute smile and in that cuteness, he can see the resemblance to Felix where he otherwise failed to. The two were as different as night and day and they bickered as such as well.

“We met them on the train,” said Seungmin. “They helped us pack away our luggage.”

Jisung thought of the shadow of Hyunjin as he reached over to pushed Jisung’s suitcase. He grew sullen once more. 

Changbin frowned. “Alright! Tell me what that mean boy said to you right now! I will not take no for an answer!” 

Jisung hesitated. “It really was nothing. He did call me a name, but I don’t know what it means, so it doesn’t really matter…”

“Of course it does,” said Seungmin. “What was it?”

“He called me a Mudblood.”

Jeongin and Felix gasped, their moods dropping to sub-zero. 

“Who said that!” demanded Jeongin. 

Jisung shrugged. “Don’t remember the name,” he lied.

“Well, if you see him, tell us,” said Felix resolutely. “That’s an awful word and no one should get away with saying it.”

A lamp bobbed over the heads of the students and Jisung heard a deep cry: “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!”

A man twice as tall and twice as wide as everyone shouted over the sea of heads. Jisung and the others gravitated toward him.

“C’mon, follow me—anymore firs’ years? Watch yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”

As they walked with the rest of the first-year group, Felix grumbled loudly as his eyes zeroed in on something he deemed unpleasant.

“What’s wrong?” asked Seungmin.

“That.” Felix jerked his head. “Do you see that boy right there? All black with his hair done up?”

Jisung looked to where Felix was glaring and his chest tightened as he recognized the subject of disdain—it was Hyunjin, expression cold and posture hunched. 

“I can’t believe we're in the same year as that git,” said Jeongin. “You’d think Hogwarts would have more sense not to let his kind inside.”

“His kind? What’s wrong with him?” asked Jisung.

“His parents are death eaters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of Hyunjin? What do you think about Jisung? Jisung fluctuates between his insecurity about being an outsider and his naturally bold personality. I'll get better at juggling it :P but that day is not today.
> 
> Here's my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/omg_itsnothing)!


	4. Lions, Snakes, and a Funny Hat

"They were what?" asked Jisung, eyes wide.

"Death Eaters," Jeongin affirmed gravely.

"What's a Death Eater? Sounds super cool." Changbin put his fists on his hips, legs apart, looking incredibly silly. "I am the Eater of Death."

Felix purpled. "No, no, no! Not cool at all! Very bad, actually! Death Eaters are the followers of You-Know-Who."

"I know who?"

"No. You-Know-Who, the greatest dark wizard of all time."

Seungmin scrunched his nose. "What a funny name for a dark wizard."

"I know right?" Changbin snickered. "You'd think he'd pick something more epic like Zaheer or Harbinger of Destruction, Jim. _ Yahoo _ doesn't exactly strike fear into your enemies."

"Be quiet, you," Felix surveyed the area to ensure no one was listening in on their conversation before huddling the group closer. Pressed against the other boy's side, Jisung could feel the tremble running down his skinny arms. "You-Know-Who and all of his followers, the Death Eaters, tried to take over the whole of the wizarding world. They're pureblood wizards driven by their hatred for muggles. They think magic will be tainted or stolen if the bloodline is mixed. That git's parents are one of them."

Jisung flinched, trying and failing to reconcile the talkative boy on the train with the evil picture his new acquaintances were painting. A part of him selfishly leeched onto the flash of kindness Hyunjin revealed to him. Of the Hyunjin who can't eat Jelly Slugs because he can spend an entire day chewing through a pack. Of the Hyunjin who soaked up information about American superheroes and talked about his favorite books. That's surely not the attitude of someone who hated muggles—hated him. Surely it must all be a misunderstanding. 

_Mudblood,_ he heard again. _Idiot._ Jisung shook. 

"Maybe... he's not like his parents," said Jisung quietly. 

Felix huffed. "Trust me. The bowtruckle does not fall far from the Wiggentree. I see him at pureblood parties all the time. He's just like his nasty parents with his expensive robes and snobby attitude. Good riddance to that lot, if you ask me. It was about time they got arrested."

"Well, well, Lee. Your habit of not knowing when to shut your trap is pleasant as always."

The group whipped around to face Hyunjin whose hands were tucked inside the pockets of his robe, a sneer stitched onto his visage. The tip of a wand juts out of one of the pockets. Jisung felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple. The idea of two infuriated purebloods on the verge of a sparks-flying quarrel pumped adrenaline through his veins. 

Felix mirrored his mean expression. "Hwang. I find no problem with warning people about danger when I see it."

"Oh." Hyunjin chuckled. "Am I the danger now?"

"With your parents rotting in Azkaban where they belong, I find it right that the son should follow."

"Let's not point fingers here. The only danger I'm aware of is your magic skills, or rather lack thereof." His sneer deepened wickedly. "I forgot to ask, how's your brother? I heard his new wheelchair can float and everything. Must feel nice to be better for once even if it's something as muggle as standing."

Jeongin gasped while Felix rolled up his sleeves. When Hyunjin jerked back to grab at his wand in retaliation, Seungmin lunged forward to restrict his friend from socking the other right in the nose. Changbin hurried to do the same with Jeongin who was similarly angered, downright snarling. 

"Take it back, you coward!" yelled Felix, struggling against his restraints and kicking out his legs. 

Hyunjin was still geared for a fight in spite of the restraints, inspiring Jisung to action. His eyes darted around for a distraction and his focus landed on the groups of first years clambering onto a boat. 

"Guys, stop! If we don't get on a boat, we'll be forced to swim with the fishes! I don't know about you, but I like being dry," said Jisung and the threat wasn't unfounded. The tiny boats floating on the shore were running out of capacity. If they weren't fast enough, they have to squeeze in with their supervisor or actually follow through with swimming. 

Hyunjin stared right at him.

Jisung stared back, gaze wavering but strong.

Hyunjin shoved his wand back into his pocket, bumping shoulders with Jisung as he passed. "Whatever. Like I have time to waste on some worthless children from a low-rate family."

"I'll show you low-rate!" shouted Jeongin who was waving his fists around wildly. "I'll take low-rate and shove it right up your—"

"Babies shouldn't curse!" Seungmin declared and they dragged the fuming cousins to the shore. 

.

.

.

The boat ride to Hogwarts was extensive and fascinating. Jisung's jaw dropped at the distant image of a castle standing tall on a mountainous range, its imposing silhouette carved into the dark canvas of the starry sky. Pencil-thin towers scraped the blanket of the clouds and its silver windows glittered like shattered diamonds. Up until now, he had only witnessed the beauty of such a castle on the cover of a magazine. In the eerie light of the floating lanterns which hovered above them like fireflies, it felt even more magical than an image could replicate.

Jisung dipped a finger in the wander, cooing at the ripples. Their boats moved without the need for an oar. 

Felix and Jeongin couldn't fit on their boat and were begrudgingly assigned to Hyunjin's in a twist of events. They were currently sitting back-to-back with red ears, steam threatening to release. Jisung was thankful his boat was a less tense endeavor. 

Changbin's arms intertwined with both his and Seungmin's. The boy shakes them excitedly. "This is it, boys. This is where our life begins."

Seungmin leaned over the edge. "Do you think there are regular fish in here? Like salmon or trout?"

"This is a magical school, Minnie! They probably got mermaids!"

"Just because dragons exist doesn't mean mermaid do."

"That makes no sense."

"I think it makes perfect sense."

While the pair debated over the existence of mythical creatures, Jisung continued to coo and hum, taking in the new smells and sounds of what will be his new residence. The river was icy to the touch. A thousand conversations between separated friends swam back and forth in the air. 

Darkness draped over the group and they arrived at an underground harbor surrounded by rocks and pebbles. 

"Watch yer step!" yelled the large man, tapping on the boats urgently with his umbrella. He missed how Hyunjin tripped Jeongin on the way out.

Jisung dragged his hand along the damp granite walls as they clambered up a steep passageway. His other hand gripped tightly on to Changbin's. The passageway opened up to a mossy bridge littered with vines but strong enough to cross. 

It took a minute to cross. They reached a series of stone steps bracketed by armored statues, dusty broadswords clenched in their discolored hands, cubic helmets rusted over. In the middle, a medieval oak doorway that quadrupled Jisung's height loomed over them. It brought back fantasies of barricades and raids, princesses and warlocks. 

"Everyone here and accounted for?"

The man nodded, raised a gigantic fist, and knocked on the castle door. Almost immediately after the first knock, the door busted open. A dreary-faced man with dark stringy hair replaced it. His coal-black robes bunched at his ankles. He swept over them with a scrutinizing gaze, his beady, tired eyes expressing his disinterest.

"Here's the new firs' years, Professor Snape."

"Hm. Follow me."

When they walked inside, Jisung noticed a crest embedded atop the door, but it was too dim to distinguish the fine details, but one section left a lasting impression—a snake curling in on itself, poised to bite. He shuffled closer to Changbin's side. 

The indistinct sounds of talking poured out from an open doorway spilling bright light and Jisung figured that they were the last of the seven years to arrive. To his confusion, instead of entering, they walked past the doorway and were led into an empty chamber. He missed the smell of roasted pork. 

Changbin eagerly bounced on his heels amidst a chorus of distressed murmurs. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” droned Professor Snape. “The start-of-term banquet will begin soon, but first you need to be sorted into your houses. This decision will dictate where you will eat, sleep, learn, and _ excel. _” He turned his back. “It will start in a few minutes. Behave.”

And he left the chamber, leaving Jisung vibrating with nerves. 

A hand clapped on his back and he startled. Felix and Jeongin's grinning faces greeted him from either side.

"We finally found you guys," celebrated Felix.

"No thanks to him," said Jeongin. "He spent all his time gawking at the door and nearly missed our cue."

Jisung's shuffled his feet guiltily.

Seungmin rubbed at his chin. "Do you guys know what all this house business is? Everyone's getting all excited over it, but I haven't the faintest idea what it could be."

Once Jisung paid more attention, he found that it was true. Every conversation was essentially the same.

_ "Are you going to be in Gryffindor?" _

_ "My sister was a Ravenclaw." _

These words sound like someone smashed as many animals and objects together until it resembled something half-coherent like Dog-Shoe or Pig-Hoof.

"It's only the most exciting part of the year!" said Jeongin. "Your houses mean everything."

"Can't be that life-changing. It's just a dorm," said Jisung.

Felix shook his head. "Just a dorm? It's so much more than that. Your house says a lot about who you are as a person."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know, if you're a Hufflepuff, you're nice to people. If you're a Ravenclaw, you like to read. And if you're a Gryffindor, you're the bravest of the bunch."

"What about Slytherin?" asked Seungmin. 

Jeongin waved his hand dismissively. "Don't bother. It's not like any of you will be sorted there. It's where all the bad people go."

"That doesn't sound right."

"It's true! All the dark wizards go there!"

Changbin hummed. "Even Yahoo?"

"Especially You-Know-Who," emphasized Felix. "Trust me. No one with any sense wants to be in Slytherin. It'd be the worst for you muggles. The purists—wizard-only types—are practically shoe-ins. I can't think of a single non-pureblood in Slytherin."

"Yikes," said Changbin. 

Jisung nibbled on his lip. That sounded exactly like the last place he wanted to end up. He already felt so out of touch with this world, it'd be just his luck to be further ostracized based on a test he took when he was eleven. He picked at his nails. This test practically determined his whole life! He tried to keep his expression cool. Clearly, he failed.

"Stop it," ordered Seungmin. "You're scaring Jisung!"

Jisung straightened his back to stifle the tremble. "I'm not!" His voice quaked. 

Felix hugged him and Jisung pouted at being babied. "Don't worry. There are four houses _ and _ you're a muggle. I can see both of us in Hufflepuff right now!"

Professor Snape returned. "Form a line and follow me. If I see any of you misbehaving, you'll do the ceremony as a frog."

He gulped.

They walked through another pair of double doors and Jisung almost paused in his step to gaze in awe. Illuminating the Great Hall was an innumerable assortment of levitating candles below an arching sky-like ceiling, mimicking flickering stars. Four long tables stretched across the expanse of the room where rows upon rows of magical delicacies cluttered the surface. Children stuffed their faces with blue pies and flying hams, cheeks turning red as cherries as they guzzled rainbow-colored drinks. Hovering above them all were translucent figures—_ ghosts! _—so animated and unlike anything he had pictured them to be. 

Changbin startled back as a cackling ghost phased through his body.

"Peeves!" another ghost scolded after him.

"Fascinating," whispered Seungmin. His attention shifted and his mouth hung open. He tugged on his friends' sleeves insistently. "Guys, look at that."

A wrinkled brown hat sat on a wooden stool in the middle of a stage. Suddenly, one of its creases opened up and belted a song about the four houses of Hogwarts—houses for the brave, true, cunning, and witty. It was surprisingly catchy.

After the song ended, an ominous sensation settled in his gut. Changbin tugged on his sleeve excitedly, but he couldn't find it within himself to share anything except overwhelming dread. 

Another teacher came up to the stage, a spindly thin witch with an equally piercing gaze. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat to be sorted." She cleared her throat. "Ackerman, John!"

A pale pudgy boy wandered up the steps where he sat on the stool. The hat barely touched his head before it shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

There was a chorus of applause, but Jisung tried to drown the noises out. This was a far more public debacle than he expected. He heard thunderous boos erupt from the yellow table. Is that what'll happen to him if he ended up somewhere he can't control?

Jisung was too busy in his own thought that he missed several other names until the teacher reached his own.

"Han, Jisung!"

Felix patted him on the back, but it stung like poison. No amount of warm smiles and soft touches could reach within and soothe his soul. He stepped forward, feet wobbly and unsteady, plopping himself on the stool. His small hands gripped the edges of his seat as the hat tickled the top of his head, engulfing his vision with a background of black. 

A small voice murmured in his ear. "Not a difficult choice at all," it said. "You want a place in this world and you'll do whatever it takes to achieve it. There's a lifelong thirst to belong waiting to be quenched, to be proved. Ah, yes. Ah, yes. This is so obvious. Of course, you'll be in—" the hat belted "—SLYTHERIN"

Complete silence. 

His heart dropped to his knees. The hat lifted and all he could see were hundreds of bodies turned to him. Against him. Thousands of glaring faceless faces, daggers slicing through Jisung's confidence like butter. His gaze instantly sought his friends and he regretted it. The utter devastation in Felix's eyes was too much to bear. 

The round of applause was sparse, drowned out by the whispers. 

_ "—A muggle-born—" _

_ "—A muggle-born? In Slytherin?—" _

_ "—Never been done—" _

Jisung waded through the stares, the weight of them slowing his descent toward the table of green. None of them had clapped at his announcement, scrutinizing him like a pig for slaughter as he walked instead. He took a seat in a far corner as isolated from the rest of his house as possible, not that it was a particularly hard endeavor considering how his housemates huddled together to avoid him.

Once he sat down, another name sliced through the air with importance.

"Hwang, Hyunjin!"

Elegant and handsome, the boy walked up to the stool calmly as though history was not made mere moments before, the subtle confidence of his strut commanding attention. Jisung watched on curiously despite his conscience urging him not to care because _he doesn't care about you, Sungie. Don't forget that._

The hall quieted and another chorus of whispers traveled through the crowd. On the other end of the Slytherin table, his housemates shuffled to make more room. 

_ "What an obvious Slytherin," _ remarked someone from the red table.

The hat lingered on Hyunjin's head. And it lingered and lingered. Soon, ten minutes had passed and Hyunjin was not sorted. The audience squirmed in their seats. 

_ "Why is there a hat stall for such an obvious student? He's a Hwang!" _

Finally, the hat twitched to life and screamed heartily. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Hyunjin nodded curtly, took off the hat, and walked off to join the red table that had been ready to scorn him and perhaps still would. 

In the resulting stunned silence, a frustrated shout echoed off the walls. Jisung traced the source back to Felix who was cherry red and fuming. "A muggle in Slytherin? And now a Hwang in Gryffindor? The hat is broken! I can't be sorted like this!"

The rant startled the students to life and similar complaints and protests spouted until the professor stood up and forced them to quell. "The hat is never wrong! Sit down. We're continuing the ceremony!"

Jisung tried to shrink himself into a ball, hoping if he bundled up small enough, everyone would stop looking at him, judging him. He hopes as the ceremony continued, it would be forgotten. 

"Kim, Seungmin!"

The hat bounced back up as soon as it touched down on the boy's head. "RAVENCLAW!"

Seungmin smiled softly as he joined the blue table. 

"Lee, Felix!" 

Felix prayed to an unknown source before sitting down, eyes squeezed shut. The hat screeched, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Thank Merlin," he breathed before hurriedly walking to a yellow table as if it could be redacted at any moment. 

A few more names were uttered that Jisung didn't bother to care for. 

"Seo, Changbin!"

Changbin bounded to the chair with a swagger, slamming the hat on his head. 

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. 

"Woot!" He pumped his fists and high-fived Seungmin on his way down. 

Vaguely, he heard Jeongin get sorted in Gryffindor, but as his friends got distributed one by one into their designated houses, his hope for companionship faded as well—if he could even call them his friends anymore since Felix and Jeongin surely hated him and if they hated him then Changbin and Seungmin will definitely follow suit. What a fantastic first day of school.

Special, he scoffed. He didn't want to be special if it meant sacrificing relationships. 

Jisung sulkily dumped soggy potatoes onto his plate. It appeared even in new beginnings, he was destined to be an outsider. 

.

.

.

"Hello, there. My name is Lee Minho."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jisung met Minho (or will meet Minho)! We have not met Chan and Woojin yet because they are older than the other members, so only through special circumstances will they interact with the others. 
> 
> Here's my [twitter!](https://mobile.twitter.com/omg_itsnothing)


	5. Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, and Tweak

Jisung blinked, pointing at himself. "Uh, me?" Soggy mashed potatoes dripped from his spoon.

"Who else would I be talking to?" the boy—Minho, he had said—inquired.

With his eyes still as wide as saucers, Jisung turned around, his face flushing red when he greeted thin air. He had taken the corner seat. When he whipped his head back, Minho was snickering, nose scrunched, wrinkling his classically handsome face. 

"Uh," said Jisung again.

"Are all muggles as great with words as you?" Minho moved uncomfortably close. "Well, I suppose I can't expect you to keep up with me. Mother tells me mud—_sorry_—muggle education is as subpar as it comes."

"Um, actually—"

"How lucky you are to be gifted this opportunity."

"Well—"

Minho tapped his chin. "Merlin, I'm being rude, aren't I? You don't even know who I am. Apologies."

"Lee Minho, wasn't it?"

The answer was met with a roll of eyes. "Yes, but I'm talking about _me_, not my name. I'm the second-born son of the Lee family—not to be mixed up with _those_ Lee's—but the better ones. Lee may not sound so magical, but neither does Potter now does it? Still, that also means our name can be mixed with lesser folk."

It was plain as day that his housemate was referring to Felix's family. It was in his light sneer and turn of his nose. He thinks of Hyunjin—as he tended to do more than he thought proper—and his scathing insults against the cousins. It appeared the intense resentment between houses bled deeper than surface-level rivalry, poisoning the young. 

His chest ached thinking about the cousins. Right now, they're probably integrating themselves into a community as brave and as kind as they are predicted to be, fitting in amongst their warm colors of sunlight and summer, and sitting in the center of their table shoulders-to-shoulders like sardines in a can. The emerald green silk of his tie now felt like the mark of an outsider. 

Nevertheless, his hackles rose. "And what's wrong with those Lee's? They can't be that bad." He hoped it sounded more like curiosity. 

Minho stabbed a slice of ham with his fork. He gazed at Jisung contemplatively before melting into that same calm lackadaisical impression. Sniff. "Nothing at all. My family is just better. My family is better than most people's, actually." He popped the ham in his mouth. "I'll have you know that I come from a long line of potions experts. My father was a major researcher for the Wideye potion, my father's father created the recipe for Skele-gro, and my father's father's father—"

"Oh, shut up, Lee. No one needs to hear your family history for the billionth time," shouted a ratty boy with hair like straw. "Also, quit talking to the mudblood. It ain't a zoo in here no matter how much his background says otherwise." 

Jisung shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't think mashed potatoes could look that unappetizing. 

"Come off it, Rosier," said Minho. "Or need I remind you who puked all over the baby Pygmy Puffs at Parkinson's ninth birthday party." Rosier sneered and Minho addressed Jisung again. "Never mind that idiot. You're the most interesting thing I've ever seen. There has never been a single muggle in Slytherin since... well, since never." He pointed at Jisung with his licked clean fork. "Until you, that is. You're abnormal."

"That's... interesting." 

"It's not a bad thing, really. But I guess it depends on how you look at it."

Minho was confusing. That's the word that came to mind when Jisung looked at the boy who stared back at him like a Bengal tiger who's been starved for days. His intentions, his feelings, his opinions—they were all shrouded behind that analytical gaze. 

He wondered what brewed beneath that unimposing smile. He now knew better than to trust a handsome face, but he'd rather not isolate himself from the one individual in this house who didn't glare at him like he was lower than the gum beneath their shoe.

So, he took a deep breath. He swallowed any snappish retorts. 

"I guess," he hesitated, "I can only make the most of it."

"That's the spirit." Minho sipped on his apple juice which swirled within a silver goblet. "Are you sure neither of your parents is magical? Nor one of your grandparents?"

"I'm pretty sure."

Minho leaned closer, nose to nose. His smile was reminiscent of a dog baring his teeth. "Fascinating."

An old man in ridiculous purple clothes ambled to his feet. His nose occupied the foremost of his face and neon yellow stars were embroidered into the hem of his clothes. He beamed at the students, eyes twinkling behind moon-shaped glasses as if this would be the greatest moment of their lives. And perhaps it was for any other jaw-dropped muggle child sitting in his seat, ecstatic for what the future will bring, unafraid of what's to come. Perhaps it was magical for everyone but him.

"Albus Dumbledore, our beloved headmaster. Wonder what inspiring thing he has to say," droned Minho monotonously.

"What's wrong with him?" His snow-white beard reminded Jisung of Santa Claus.

Minho spared him a glance, then shrugged. Sniff. "Nothing at all. I'm just tired of getting his portrait whenever I buy a chocolate frog."

"Welcome!" said Albus Dumbledore. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we continue with our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Jisung was baffled.

Students around him whooped and hurrahed. He caught one Hufflepuff student kneeling on the bench, piping out screeching whistles. Another had unraveled their tie and waved it around in an arduous circle. Slytherin, on the other hand, barely moved their hands for a clap, generating a rather pathetic _pat-pat-pat_ sound. Bolder member ignored the speech—if you could even call it that—in favor of continuing their own conversations as if the headmaster never spoke at all. Minho, himself, didn't bother paying attention as he arranged sugar cubes into a hexagonal pyramid. 

The cheering went on for a while, but Jisung's focus zeroed in on a stationary splotch of black sitting at the Gryffindor table. Moreso than any other house, Gryffindor scrambled onto their knees to cheer if not already standing up to clap. That is, all except Hwang Hyunjin who sat still and unbothered. The other was hunched over, in the middle of the table, but alone waiting for the noise to cease.

_'And what about you?'_ thought Jisung. _'How do you feel inside the lion's den?'_

The depressed curve of his back, the indifference, how the scarlet clashed with his skin, threatening to cry out. Not for the first time that evening, Jisung thought the hat had them switched. Science evolved and math was subject to errors. An ancient Chinese king once thought opium was the key to eternal life. Who's to say that magic was an infallible concept? 

Green rubbed at his neck like a pestilence. He wondered if red would fit him better. 

"The headmaster is also interesting," commented Jisung, ripping his gaze away from the gold and red ensemble. 

Minho bumped shoulder with him playfully. "You don't have to sugarcoat it. Call him what he is. He's mad. Off his rocker. Has a screw loose and thinks he lost it in the mountains of Canada."

Jisung giggled, inciting a smirk from his housemate. 

His voice lowered. "I'm not kidding. He's bonkers. And it'll do you good to remember that because that's all he'll ever be to kids like us." A plate was nudged towards him. Minho grinned. "Cherry pie?"

A grand sight was laid luxuriously before him once the houses settled down enough for desserts to be served: a mountain of glistening cinnamon buns, creamy strawberry cheesecake three inches thick, baguettes lined up like toy soldiers, a bowl of bread pudding beginning to cave in, sparkling whip cream that slid down melting chocolate, and a bulging tower of cream puffs dripping rainbow filling that tasted like a rainbow of flavors. The overindulgence, the buffet of it all, made him nauseous. It made him homesick.

In two weeks, it'll be Chuseok and he won't be able to celebrate it with his family for the first time in his life. Last year his mother made a feast comprised entirely of japchae, the entire length of the table occupied by a gargantuan wooden bowl spilling with sauteed glass noodles and stir-fried vegetables. It spilled from the bowl and onto the family menu for the next three days. He thinks of his mother threatening them with a spoon when they tried to dump it in the bin. He thinks of his father who got scolded beside them. He remembers he can't celebrate Chuseok with his family for the next seven years.

"No, thanks," said Jisung. "I'm okay."

"If you say so."

A translucent figure flew through his body as he wallowed in self-pity. The chilling sensation made him yelp. 

"Sorry about that, lad," said an otherworldly voice. 

Jisung looked up and cowered instantly. The flying man was drenched in faded blood from head to toe. 

Minho cackled at his reaction. "First time seeing a ghost? His name's the Bloody Baron, Slytherin's ghost, and the only one worth knowing if you ask me. He's been haunting this place since the dawn of time."

The Bloody Baron had flown to the opposite side of the room where Gryffindor resided, goading another ghost, who was nearly headless. He wasn't sure if ghosts could start brawls, being supernatural entities without bodies and all, but they were sure making a great effort anyhow.

Minho rattled on about the rumors regarding his death, the theories, the conspiracies. Once he got comfortable with Jisung, his mouth gushed like a leaky faucet. He talked about how Peeves should never be meddled with, Nearly Headless Nick could drone on for hours and hours about his valiant pursuits, the Fat Friar held prayer in the courtyard on Sundays, and the Grey Lady should never be disturbed because it's like talking to a paper cup.

Jisung nodded along indulgently, but a question begged to be answered. "I'm sorry," he interrupted. "But how on Earth do you know this?"

"Know what?"

"About the ghosts! And what they eat! And just—this school! We're the same age. You should know as much as I do."

A moment of silence passed between them. An awful feeling stirred in the empty spaces left unsaid. 

Jisung watched as Minho's shoulders rolled back, as his forehead smoothed, as his lips slanted upwards in a lazy smile. _I'm better than you,_ is the smile. _So much better._

Carelessly, he shrugged. "I'm a pureblood."

The words fell out like spun gold. As though the world bent to appease him, bowed to earn his favor, and maybe it did. He was walking, talking privilege. And the worst part of it was that Jisung knew that Minho didn't mean anything malicious by it. The way he twiddled with the tips of Jisung's robes and the relaxed slouch of his back. He didn't mean to be better, _so much better._ Not with how sweet he made it sound. But Jisung felt utterly, utterly outclassed anyways.

He nodded a pathetic follower's nod while Minho stacked his plate with pumpkin pasties. He topped every single one with whip cream and cherries. 

One of the cherries toppled down and Jisung reached for it. His hand accidentally brushed against a twiggy young girl who couldn't have been much older than he. Her hand yanked back like she was burned, her nose scrunched like crumpled paper. She swiped a napkin from the table, furiously rubbing her hand as she whispered to her friend. 

Tears stung the back of his eyes. Focus on the floating candles that glimmered like stars. Focus on Minho's curious voice. Ignore how the candles reminded you of home. Ignore how Minho feels so far away. 

He couldn't wait to fall asleep.

"Are you okay?" Minho asked. His hand was heavy on his shoulder.

"I'm okay."

"If you say so." His hand stayed in place for a while before it dropped off. Minho quieted a little after that.

Eventually, the desserts vanished in an instant, clean and polished as if a bunch of children wasn't halfway to starting a food fight. Dried mustard stains magically scraped off the wooden tables. The spoons and forks seemed to wash themselves, a scene from Beauty and the Beast.

The hall quieted as Professor Dumbledore rose to speak once more. "There are a few announcements before bed. The forest on the grounds is completely forbidden to all students. Also, Mr. Filch would like to remind you all that no magic is allowed in a non-educational environment. Finally, Quidditch trials will be starting on our third week, a week later than normal due to some events that occurred last quarter."

A burst of giggles spread throughout Ravenclaw, quickly shushed by the glares of Madam Hooch.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

Minho wrapped an arm around Jisung, pulling him close. Jisung unconsciously leaned into the warmth, caving into his need for affection. "This is gonna be good." He, as well as everyone else in the hall save the new muggles, opened their mouths to belt a screeching tune:

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, _

_Teach us something please, _

_Whether we be old and bald _

_Or young with scabby knees, _

_Our heads could do with filling _

_With some interesting stuff, _

_For now, they're bare and full of air, _

_Dead flies and bits of fluff, _

_So teach us things worth knowing, _

_Bring back what we've forgot, _

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest, _

_And learn until our brains all rot._

At least Minho was right about one thing—it was good. The jovial chaos shared by all the houses relaying their own strident rendition of this eccentric tune was enough to raise Jisung's downtrodden spirits, enough to have him perform high-pitched adlibs at the top of his lungs. And maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was how Minho swayed them and squeezed his shoulder.

"Do you feel better now?" his housemate—not a friend, maybe a friend—whispered.

"Thank you," said Jisung, conflicted with his own opinions as much as Minho conflicted with his own.

Only time can reveal the nature of a golden heart. He resolved to figure out this boy who was sly but not mean. Impersonal, but not oppressive. 

The last few lyrics dwindled down and the students were dragged off to bed.

Jisung stuck close to Minho's side as the Slytherins sidled out of their seats, rearranging themselves into lines. They shuffled behind the leadership of a curly-haired teenager as he led them into the flooding halls.

His shoulder shoved against a patch of red. Jisung's breath caught when he looked up and found himself back to chest with Hyunjin. The crushing space around them relinquished them from separating. He couldn't figure out if this suffocating sensation was because of the upperclassmen barricading all sides of him or because of how Hyunjin's touch seared through this clothing and punched him in the gut. 

He peered at the hallway to make sure he didn't lose track of his house and instead saw how far the other Gryffindors were compared to Hyunjin. They were already climbing a set of winding stairs. 

Jisung spoke, "Um, your house is—"

Hyunjin detached himself from Jisung. "Don't."

Courage shriveled up inside of him and fell to the floor. No, it was definitely the touch. 

A pale pair of hands snagged onto his and pulled. "You nearly got trampled over!" It was Minho. 

Jisung allowed himself to be led, stare never leaving the back of Hyunjin's head. His shoulders remained as slouched as they were during the ceremony. It was ridiculous, this fixation. Jisung knew he was clutching straws frayed at the edges, holding onto this image he should've dropped when he left the first time. But as Hyunjin walked away, he couldn't help but feel pity for the loneliness that plagued his steps. 

Once they emerged a little past the archway, the hallway cleared up. The other three houses had ventured in the other direction. It seemed even in location, his house was isolated. 

Although he was still contemplative about the events of the evening, he nodded along to Minho's anecdotes about the magical details pervading the nooks and crannies of Hogwarts. Every moving painting had a story and a personality. The pink ballerinas sing sonnets about their days in a recital never realized and the black and white portraits of deceased Slytherins turned their noses up at you as you descended down the stone steps to the bottommost floor of the school. A particularly nasty one tacked with the name Umbridge commented on how all the newcomers looked too green to be useful.

They reached an area lit up by lanky candles. The floor was wet and grubby, the stone slabs accented by moss. Minho frowned. "I think this is the dungeons."

"Please tell me we won't be sleeping here."

"I'm sure we can ask to exchange our room for one on Ravenclaw's tower."

"Really?"

"Of course not."

Their sizable group walked through the ominous candlelight until they reached the end of the corridor. Jisung gathered his robes closer as the temperature dropped. There didn't appear to be a door in sight, the end of the hall quite barren barring the leaking stone around them and the nevermelting candles.

The prefect dragged his hands along the bumps in the wall before his pointer finger caught on one rock more rounded than the others. He spoke, _"Tarantallegra."_

Similar to the bookstore in Cardiff, the wall trembled in place and the stones spun inwards, mechanically caving in to reveal a dark passageway. He caught a glimpse of the prefect's beckoning hand as he was jostled forward into the tight-fitted tunnel. A green light illuminated the tops of their heads. A few steps more and that green effervescence encased his realm of sight.

Minho let out a low whistle. Jisung gave a shocked laugh. 

The Slytherin common room was breathtaking even in his disoriented state. The room itself was large and high-ceilinged, separated by thick marble columns intricately engraved with pictures depicting decades worth of Hogwarts history, not a single carving whittled down by age. The walls' archways revealed clear glass which held back water from the lake above them. Bioluminescent plant life clung to the sides, flooding the room with green ambiance. A round circular center formed the top of the ceiling from which ornate lamps and banners of snakes hung, and a mural of whom he presumed was Salazar Slytherin was painted about the dome.

Jisung breathed in the Fortune teller orbs, the mounds of emerald silk and tasseled Italian carpets, the floor-to-ceiling portraits of pureblood families, bookshelves upon bookshelves upon bookshelves lining every corner, couches too stiff to be soft, desks so sharp they could cut, and furniture so darkly green they could be black.

Slytherins were embroiled in tradition and dripping with old money and they were proud of the fact.

Jisung breathed in the magic of the room and said, "It looks like Hulk vomited all over the place."

Several students glared at him. Minho smiled, pinching him on the arm.

The prefect, a boy with pale skin and broad shoulders, regarded them all with thinly-veiled judgment. His gaze pierced through them, dressing them down to their knickers and reaching into the soul. He paced about them like a predator—like a snake. The other prefect, a stocky girl with brown skin stood on the side with her arms crossed. Crooked teeth peeked out of her sneer. 

Jisung straightened his back. He felt compelled to please them.

Finally, the boy spoke. "I care not what family you were born to. I do not care how prestigious they are. I also care so very little about the extent of your bloodline. It will do you no favors from me. The size of your inheritance, your purity, your connections—" He turned on his heel "—it means nothing here. We are a house that rose from the ashes of tradition, fear, and respect, and by Merlin, have we earned it."

He stepped forward until he was right in front of Jisung. "So let's get one thing clear: for as long as you are at Hogwarts, you are a Slytherin first, and nothing else afterward."

"We will place no restrictions on you. Cheat, if you must, but do not dream of getting caught. Bully other students, if you wish, but leave no marks. Excel, and we shall have no problems. We did not work this hard for a few entitled brats to ruin us. If any of you dare stain our reputation, have any notion of making us the fool."

He stared directly at Jisung. "You will regret ever having stepped foot into this room."

Jisung stared back.

He smiled, returning to his original spot. "I'm Bang Chan. That's Gemma Farley. Welcome to Slytherin, the best house in Hogwarts."

.

.

.

Chan led the tired pack of boys through a wooden door that opened into a green-carpeted hallway. More doors bracketed each side. Another hallway ran perpendicular to theirs where the other years presumably resided.

He rattled off a quartet of names. "Greengrass, Ackerley, Baddock, Rookwood." He pointed to the first door on the left. "Your luggage is already inside."

They entered. Twelve were left. 

"Bletchley, Crabbe, Bole, Derrick."

Eight were left.

Jisung worried over dealing with unsavory roommates. He shuffled closer to Minho who was marveling at the glowing plants pressed against the glass ceiling.

"Flint, Bulstrode, Harper, Higgs."

Jisung let out a sigh of relief.

Chan jabbed his thumb toward the last unoccupied dorm. "Han, Lee, Nott, Rosier."

"I call the window bed," Minho announced as he swaggered in.

"No, you don't," complained Rosier, slamming into Jisung's shoulder as he bulldozed inside.

Turns out, they all had a window bed. Similar to the common room, large glass windows striped the walls revealing the deep waters of the lake. Four ancient four-poster beds were fastened between the gaps. Silk viridian curtains draped across glossy blackwood spires. Trunks of various sizes were placed beside each bed.

Jisung sat upon his bed and opened up his trunk. An argument festered in the background. 

Quinton Rosier whined, "You'd think with all the money our parents donate to Hogwarts, we'd have better sheets." He shook his blanket. "It's like sleeping in sandpaper!"

Reginald Nott, a mousey boy, scoffed. "This is expensive Japanese linen."

"But it's not even soft!"

Jisung sifted through his cauldrons and books. His eyes glimmered._ 'Aha! There you are.' _He withdrew a scrap of notebook paper and a pen.

Minho's voice cut through the bickering. "Sometimes things that are expensive are worse."

Jisung threw the blanket over himself as Minho's comment ignited another round of arguing. He placed his parchment atop the drawer beside his bed and began to write to his family.

_Dear Mum, Dad, and Jiwoon, _

_Hogwarts is a magical place! There was this big feast and all the food you could imagine appearing on the table. <strike>Though I didn't eat any of it.</strike> I've found new friends and am eager to learn new things. Turns out they sort you when you first arrive. I'm in Slytherin, the house of the snakes. I'm so <strike>scared</strike> nervous because I'm not sure I'll fit in, but I'll just go with the flow and see where the river takes me. My housemates are really kind. Minho, one of my new friends, is really nice. I can't wait to start my classes. Being a wizard is more exciting than I could ever dream of. _

_I love you. Don't worry about me. I'm fine._

_Until next time,_

_Sungie_

A barrage of fists banged at their door. Chan's threatening voice was muffled. "OI! SHUT UP!"

Jisung jumped, shoving his letter back into his trunk and burying into his blankets. He heard the grumble of the others as they sauntered into their beds. Finally, in the wake of the moonlight, the stress of the day sunk into his bones. His skin felt heavy as his limbs melted into the sheets. Strangely enough, his eyelids, though feeling like dumbells, wouldn't close. His mind wouldn't ease. One by one, he could hear his dormmates slumber. Nott's little whistles. Rosier's bear-like snores. Minho's rustles. It was magnified in his exhaustion.

A thousand questions simmered on the surface of his head. On whether he'd excel at his classes or fail miserably. On whether his teachers would like him. On whether Felix and Jeongin would still talk to him. On whether Changbin and Seungmin would remain his friends. On the intentions of Minho. On if he could trust him. On the myriad of faces revealed by Hyunjin. On if he'll ever reveal the real one—he hopes it's that sweet boy on the train.

He questions if he'll ever survive in this house. He wonders if it's all a mistake. 

Bang Chan's words burned him: _'You are a Slytherin first, and nothing else afterward.'_

_And what if you are nothing?_

Sleep lured him in. He dreamt of videogames and superheroes, of being one. He dreamt of Jiwoon's out of tune voice ringing in his ears and his father's terrible jokes being cracked on Monday mornings. He dreamt of his mother. He dreamt of honey lemon tea soothing him after he cried because Calum Campbell called him a slur and the teacher did nothing. Her hand upon his cheek wiping away the tears.

_'You are who you are,'_ she whispered in his ear. _'Don't be ashamed.'_

_Mudblood_, said Hyunjin.

_Mudblood, _said Rosier.

The judgment of Salazar Slytherin haunted him_._

_And what if I am nothing?_

Lake water lapped against the windows. When he awoke the next day, he could feel the echo of her warmth clinging to his skin.

.

.

.

A barrage of water splashed against his face moments after. Rosier and Nott grinned cruelly above him. "Wake up, mudblood."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and updated a lot in a short amount of time so I will pause here for a while as I update and start my other Hyunsung fics (that you should check out :D). What do you think of Minho? What do you think of Channie? What house do you think Woojin is in since he's the last one left for us to meet?
> 
> Also! Catch the Caleb Gallo reference :)
> 
> Here's my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/omg_itsnothing)!


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